


Falling Without Wings

by orphan_account



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Asgard, Badass, F/M, Family, Friendship, Gen, Marvel Cinematic Universe - Freeform, Romance, change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-21
Updated: 2013-10-21
Packaged: 2017-12-30 01:26:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1012368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One minute you're flying, then suddenly the world rips in half and you're falling. Landing is never easy. But crash landing in Asgard? Another matter entirely. </p><p>"I was surrounded by rippling, crackling rainbow energy. It pulled me along and I seemed to be hurtling at breakneck speeds. I bolt of panic shot through me. This landing was going to kill me."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Fall: (v.) _To move from a higher to a lower level, rapidly and without control._**

 

I placed the last of an armful of books into its rightful position on the shelf, straining my ears as I peeked above the spines of the paper worlds to catch what was being said by the strangers outside the open window of the library. They were dressed oddly and caught the attention of many passers-by with their garb. I had not seen them around before and from the pseudo-medieval clothing I could only assume they were cosplayers, if somewhat overly dedicated ones. “We have what we need brother. We shall return home,” declared on of the three men, tall and muscled to a point I found minutely disturbing. One of the others, a heavyset man with a wild red beard, nodded somewhat subserviently at the blond giant. The third and final of the companions hissed his irritation and I shifted slightly to include him more fully in my field of view. Dressed in some sort of armour unlike I had ever seen, with an emerald green cape that contrasted starkly with the ruby red of the man I assumed was the dominant member of the group, the black haired man did not seem impressed with the decision to leave. His lip curled back and he vocalised the dissent clear on his face. “Brother do not be so hasty! We are far from done yet, if you would only _think!”_ he snapped.

“No Loki! We have done as asked and we shall return to Asgard.” The dark haired man hissed in frustration but held his tongue and I couldn’t help but notice the scheming glint in his eye as I mulled over their words. _Loki, Asgard,_ all words familiar to me from the hours spent pouring over books in secret when no one was overseeing my work and the library was quiet. Which was often enough in a town like this. Norse gods, mythology that had faded from mainstream culture centuries ago. I flashed a look at the clock and realised my shift had finished over a quarter of an hour ago. I bit down on my lip as I eyed the arguing strangers outside the window uncertainly. My moment’s hesitation was forced to an end as the trio began to leave. “What have you got to lose?” I muttered to myself as I ducked behind the library desk, grabbed my bag and hurried out onto the street to follow the strangers. I kept my distance, not wanting to make my presence known until I had figured out if the men belonged to an actual RP group or were simply eccentrics playing dress up independently.  The three continued to argue as I followed them, although it was mostly between the two tallest men that the words flowed. I grew more curious as their path lead further away from the populated region of town and into the quiet industrial area. It made it harder to follow them unnoticed, but I managed, padding behind the three on silent feet. I paused and quickly pulled something from my bag, tucking it up the sleeve of my jacket, just in case. All three men came to a halt just around the corner of a storage warehouse and I snuck as close as I dared, keeping myself pressed against the wall of the warehouse. “This will do,” muttered a voice. I couldn’t be sure but I thought it was that of the hulking blonde man who seemed to be the leader of the group. “Bring us home, gatekeeper,” came the command. Seconds later the gentle clouds above our heads turned dark and volatile, thunder rippling through them. I looked up in shock. “ _What the hell?!”_ I breathed, the sound swallowed up by the storm. There was a loud crackling and a beam of rainbow light began to arc down from the sky directly above. Thoughts connected rapidly in my mind, impossible realisations forming in the span of a few milliseconds. This was real. _This was real._ It had to be, there was no other reasonable explanation, even though all science defied the possibility. _What do I do?_ The light touched down, engulfing the men and I made my decision. I tore myself away from the warehouse wall and flung myself around the corner, into the light.

 

I was surrounded by rippling, crackling rainbow energy. It pulled me along and I seemed to be hurtling at breakneck speeds. I bolt of panic shot through me. _This landing is going to kill me_ , I realised with horror. _Well crap, good job you twat!_  I cursed myself. I tried to right myself so that I was travelling feet first and once I had accomplished that, I let my knees bend slightly and prepared myself for whatever agony impact would bring. Perhaps ten seconds later I caught a glimpse of the three I had followed. Their hurtling pace seemed to be slowing, and I prayed to the powers that be that mine would too. Suddenly, they vanished. _Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck,_ I chanted in my head. Had there been some magical stop of point I needed to know of in order to get off? With my luck I was probably going to spend the rest of my life, or better yet eternity, hurtling through the rainbow void alone. So wrapped up in my inner monologue was I that I almost, _almost_ , didn’t notice my own speed decreasing. I let out a sigh of relief and for the first time noted the presence of air. I had but a second to register this and pray there would be sufficient oxygen at the location of my arrival before I, with a speed still great enough to leave me in a heap on the hard surface I hit, did in fact arrive.

 

The first thing I noted upon landing was a decent amount of pain, mostly in my left forearm. The second thing I noticed, with some relief, was that yes, there was in fact sufficient oxygen for my survival here. Wherever _here_ was. And the third was that the ground I had landed on was warm, alive and quite definitely not the ground. It muttered some muffled curse as I scrambled to my feet, pushing myself forcefully away from the blonde man who had cushioned my crash. It was only when I left a bloody smear on him that I became aware that I was actually injured. I pushed up my sleeve to reveal a long slice running diagonally across my arm. Blood flowed from it, a little more freely than I would like. A glint caught my eye and I scrambled across to it, scooping up the object and brandishing it at the shocked trio. It was coated in blood already, my own. It was the knife I carried everywhere, the knife I had stored up my sleeve what was really only minutes ago in completely different world. I stared wide eyed at the three, no four men who looked at me in equal shock. The newcomer I could only assume was the gatekeeper, dressed in gleaming golden armour and wielding an intimidating greatsword. I clutched my now somewhat pathetic weapon more tightly as I tried to evaluate the situation and exactly what danger I was in. We stood on some sort of bridge that glowed and rippled with the same colourful light as whatever had transported it here. _Bifrost,_ my mind threw the name at me, recollected surely from some story I had read at one point or another. I stared intently at the faces of the four in front of me. _Gods. Actual gods,_ I marvelled. My wonder did not stop me from flinching back a step when the green clad man took a step towards me. I held his gaze and shook my head slowly, raising the bloodstained blade higher in warning. An amused smirk appeared on his thin lips as he raised his hands placating and stepped back once more. “Easy there, little one,” his voice was musical, lyrical, entrancing.

I glared at him, unsurity taking shape in a fierce defensiveness. “I’m not your little one,” I spat back at him, “Loki.”

He looked mildly impressed at the use of his name and the towering blonde man eyed me cautiously. “How do you know my brother’s name, mortal,” he thundered. How appropriate.

“Because, _Thor_ ,” I replied, placing heavy emphasis on his name and praying silently that I had guessed it correctly, “I have more than empty air trapped inside this skull.”

The thunder god frowned at me but before he had a chance to speak, the golden clad gatekeeper stepped forward and peered at me with a steady gaze that was thoroughly unsettling. “How did you arrive here, mortal?” he asked calmly, yet with an air of command that seemed to resonate the air around him. I opened my mouth to reply, but again someone else jumped in. “She followed us from the place in which she worked. A library. She thought we were, playing a sort of dress up? Cosplaying, whatever that may be,” Loki informed the group. I snapped my attention to the dark haired god. “How do you know that?” I barked at him, jabbing the knife in his direction.

“Because you’re thinking it,” he curled his lips back into a taunting smirk.

 _He’s in my head,_ I realised with shock, quickly replaced by a cold anger. _Well let’s see how you like this,_ I snarled mentally. I heard Loki chuckle but it was quickly cut off as I began to bombard myself with every horrific image or memory of extreme pain that I could think of. The biting pain from he cut in my arm, the time I leapt from the top of a cupboard as a child and broke my elbow, slipping on black ice and fracturing my wrist, being kicked by a startled horse, the revulsion of stumbling across a mutilated fox on my walk home from school, the heartbreak of losing my first dog, and the worst, most gut wrenching, heart-crushing agony of the loss of everything I had ever held dear. 

“Calm yourself mortal,” he laughed, although the sound was somewhat strained, proving my assault had had some effect. I glared at the presumptuous god, striding rapidly until I was all but toe to toe with him. Everyone watched in interest, no one feeling particularly threatened by the slight mortal girl who had fallen into their world. “If you ever, _ever_ , do that again,” I hissed up at the dark haired figure, “I will kill you.” I pressed the tip of the knife into the fabric over his heart to drive home my point. A delighted smile lit up his face and sent green eyes sparkling. We locked gazes as I stared at him defiantly, chin up, and shoulders square. I held my ground as he leaned toward me, wrapping cool slender fingers around the hand that held the weapon and murmured in my ear, “I’d like to see you try.”

It was my turn to smile, a bitter, twisted parody of one but a smile none the less. I turned my head slightly to recapture eye contact. “Believe me when I say you wouldn’t,” I replied, letting every word roll off my tongue with slow and deliberate emphasis, pushing the knife more firmly against the smirking god’s chest.

“Enough! Heimdall, send her back,” demanded Thor.

“I do not think that would be wise,” the gate keeper rebuked. His simple statement gave Heimdall all our attention. I quirked an eyebrow at the Bifrost’s guardian, curiosity piqued. _Why would he not want me to leave?_ I wondered. “Take her to the Queen. Give her this,” Heimdall ordered, handing Thor a slip of paper that seemed to appear in his hand out of nowhere, “Frigga will know what to do.”

I flinched and tugged my hand out of his grasp as Loki’s voice chimed in my ear once more, “Oh this _is_ getting interesting.”

 

I could do nothing but stare in wonder as I was led by the three Asgardians into the magnificent splendour of this new world. Golden towers rose high into the air in formations unlike anything on Earth, intricate and gleaming in the light of a different sun. I was in awe at sight the city presented to me. The sound of bustling life began to drift to my ear, the air carrying it to me as brushed against my skin and swirled playfully around me. Everything was vibrantly inescapable, the cloying smell of this new land, the bright cityscape that bequeathed my eyes with the gift of its glory. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” I tore my gaze reluctantly away from what lay in front of me to look at the grinning god of thunder. I nodded fervently and he gave an easy, hearty laugh.  The difference on his face was a startling contrast to the stern and commanding warrior I had first met. I smiled back and returned my eyes to feast on the view. “It is the most wondrous, beautiful thing I have ever seen,” I confirmed.

“Just wait till you try the food!” chuckled the stout bearded man.

“I’m sure it is magnificent, if you’ll have me long enough to try it,” I laughed back. As we entered the city proper, my head whipped back and forth in a frantic effort to see everything in its entirety. Shop keepers beseeched passers-by to inspect their wares, yet the hustle ground to a halt as we passed. Hushed voices of mothers whispered to children, told them to look, for there were the sons of Odin. And yet I felt their eyes rest on me with the same curiosity with which their children regarded the three men. Though the scrutiny made me mildly uncomfortable, I could not blame them. My clothes where visibly different and my hair in particular drew the attention of those around me. It hung in a tousled mess all the way to my lower back and it was dyed a vibrant shade of blue. The crowds parted for us and we continued on, deeper into the heart of Asgard.

 

I swallowed somewhat nervously as I looked around the grand throne room, shrugging my backpack into a more comfortable position as I waited for the arrival of the Asgardian queen. Unsure of where to let my gaze rest, I decided to inspect my arm. Pushing up my sleeve I poked the cut carefully. The bleeding had stopped and my lower forearm was streaked with dried blood from the shallow cut, some of which had stained my sleeve. I sighed in irritation and pulled the fabric down over it, letting my arm drop to my side. Seconds later, footsteps echoed softly through the room and a regal looking woman appeared out of a nook in the corner. Both Thor and Loki stepped forward to embrace her while I remained standing awkward and uncertain. A sudden onslaught of nervous energy begging my body for movement caused me to slide the backpack off my shoulders and set is silently on the floor between my feet as I waited. The three Asgardians spoke quietly at length, Thor handing the Queen the slip of paper Heimdall had given him. I watched with interest as she read it carefully and after a moment’s hesitation crumpled it into a ball. Her eyes snapped up and fixed on me, both her sons mimicking her action. “And who do we have here,” she asked me with a gentle sternness that so many mothers seemed to possess. I gave a small smile and bowed my head respectfully, unsure of the correct way to behave. “Alexa, your majesty. Well, Alexandria really, but everyone calls me Alexa,” I said softly.

“Heimdall is of the opinion that you should stay among us and I do not take any advice of his lightly. What do you think?” the Queen asked me.

“Honestly, I would much like to stay if you will allow it,” I replied.

“And your family, won’t they miss you?”

“My family are dead.” I couldn’t help the harsh bite that interwove itself with my tone. There was an awkward, pity filled silence. I forced down the choking knot in my throat and roughly palmed away a tear that dared trickle onto my cheek.

“Then you are more than welcome to stay among us,” Frigga said softly. I nodded and gave a weak, grateful smile but my tear blurred eyes could not help but see the curious looks that both brothers, but in particular Loki, shot their mother. The Queen turned to her sons. “Heimdall tells me the two of you had some difficulties on finding common ground while you were away,” she said, reproving, “Perhaps it would be a good idea for the two of you to practise working together a little more.” Her suggestion was met by groans and grumbles of complaint and outrage from both brothers. My heart plunged as my mind flashed back to memories of my own brothers, bickering in a similar way. I forced the wave of aching nausea down and tried to pay attention as the Queen began to speak again. “Someone will have to show or guest around and educate her in the ways of Asgard,” I groaned mentally as I guessed where her sentence was headed, “That will your responsibility. Both of yours.” Her tone left no room for argument.  I forced a smile. The jovial god of thunder I could deal with easily enough, but there was a slyness and arrogance that surrounded Loki that hardly belied his name as the God of Mischief. I could almost taste the conflict waiting to happen. The Queen signalled for a maid waiting on the outskirts of the room that I had not previously noticed and asked her to show me to a room while she spoke to the Princes. I thanked her again and followed the servant girl out, almost bouncing with excitement.


	2. Chapter Two

**Grand: (adj.) _Magnificent and imposing in appearance, size, or style_**

The maid led me through winding halls of the seemingly infinite castle, up stairs and around corners and past guards until we reached what must be the correct door. The maid pushed the door open and gestured me inside with a smile. Stepping across the threshold, I let another wave of wonder wash over me. The room was beautiful, intricately decorated and rich furnishings. I could only assume that it was intended for guests of high privilege. I turned and gave the maid a broad smile as she followed me in and closed the door behind her. “It’s beautiful,” I exclaimed.

She nodded her acquiescence. “Yes miss, it is,” she said politely.

“What’s your name?”

“Eir, miss.”

“Well, nice to meet you Eir,” I laughed, “And my name is Alexandria, not miss. But you can call me Alexa, or Lexi, Lex, Alli, or whatever else floats your boat.”

“My boat?” A comical look spread across her face, eye crinkling as she scrunched her nose in confusion.

I laughed again. “It’s a saying from where I come from,” I explained.

“If you don’t mind my asking, where _are_ you from?” Eir asked hesitantly.

I felt my mouth twist into a wry smile at the sheer absurdity of the question. “I’m from Earth. I think, I think you call it,” I frowned as I strained to remember, “Midgard?” Her eyes widened in wonder as she recognised the name. I laughed again as I shrugged and dropped my pack to the floor. “Trust me when I say it is not that special in comparison to this place,” I assured her, gesturing around me. The motion caused the sleeve of my jumper to ride up ever and expose part of the dried blood that stained my left arm. Eir tutted and walked over, gently taking my arm in hers and pushed my sleeve up further in order to see the full extent of the damage. As the skin of my forearm was exposed, Eir gasped and my stomach twisted into a bitter knot. The cut itself was not severe, long and shallow, but the canvas on which it sat is what caused the reaction. Several long lines ran vertical from wrist to elbow, pales scars that were slightly raised, Eir looked me in the eye, concern written plain on her face.  Wordlessly, I removed my arm from her grip and pushed my hoodie sleeve up on the other arm to. On my right arm a nearly identical, although slight less steady, set of scars graced the skin, missing only the fresh bloody streak from the left. “What happened to you?” murmured Eir. I looked down and ran my hands over the marks. “I happened to me.”

“You did this to yourself?” she gasped in horror, “Why?”

“I tried to kill myself. Twice,” my tone was hollow as I let the word drop and hang heavy in the air. The notion seemed completely abhorrent to the sweet maid as she stared at me aghast. I wandered over the bed and sat, patting a spot beside me for Eir. She sat gingerly, gazing at me with a confused pity. I sighed and tried to gather myself before launching into my story. “I was at a friend’s house for the weekend and she was driving me home. The traffic was awful, the cars were hardly moving,” seeing her puzzlement at the unfamiliar word, I explained, “They’re something we have on Earth. Like a horse, but not alive. We use them to get around and they move very fast.” I took a shuddering breath as images from the day began to sift up through the cracks in the barricade holding them down. “After a few minutes we had moved a few hundred meters up the line and there were police officers there, directing traffic past. There had been some kind of accident and the police were trying to keep everything under control. They had strung big sheets up between the road and the accident, to stop people seeing what had happened. We’d almost driven past when the wind caught one of the sheets, blew it up in the air and I saw,” I stopped, choking on the knot in my throat. “I saw part of the car that had been in the crash and I recognised it. It was my parents’ car. It took me a second to register. I undid my seatbelt and I jumped out of the car as we moving past. I was screaming, screaming and screaming and screaming because I _knew_ , knew what must have happened. The police and the paramedics tried to pull me away but they couldn’t. I saw them, laid out next to the broken car, Mum and Dad and all of my brothers. Seven stretchers and seven bodies. I think the only time I stopped screaming was when I threw up on the side of the road. I didn’t want to see, but I couldn’t stop myself from pulling back the sheets from their faces and looking,” I stopped, staring into my lap as tears rolling down my face dripped onto my folded hands. “They had be hit head on and the car had gone spinning if the road, rolled over and wrapped itself around a tree. One idiot was all it took to kill my entire family.”

“They had to sedate me in the end, and I spent a night under observation in the hospital. The next day they let me go home. I tried then, the first time. Went out into the furthest field where my brothers and I used to spend time together, and cut and cut and cut at my arms until I passed out. I should have died then,” I gave a sharp bark of laughter, “I almost did. _Almost_. I woke up three days later in the same god-damned hospital room. Still alive.”

“What happened then?” Eir asked in a hushed voice.

“I met my parents.”

I saw the confusing and horrify possibilities running through the maid’s mind, so I explained yet another twist in the bitter tale. “The nurse came in and told me there was someone here to see me. A man and a woman I had never seen before in my life walked in, said hello and called me by name.” I told of that day in grim tones as I flashed back to the memory. Their sad faces, my outraged anger at their appearance, the silence. The family therapy and then the bitter betrayal when they tore me away from home and carried me leagues away from my home in the English countryside to the stinking American suburbs. The second suicide attempt, the second failure.

“You poor thing!” Eir exclaimed, throwing her arms around me. I hesitated before accepting her embrace.  

“Thank you.”

She looked me deep in the eye and I was taken aback by the empathy in her eyes. I pushed a smile on my face. “I got my own back, in a way. I became the most uncontrollable teenager I could,” I chuckled grimly, “I dyed my hair, refused to do anything they told me to do, wouldn’t talk to them, stayed out of the house as much as possible. They tried to send me to school, but I’d been home schooled by Mum and Dad back in the UK, so I’d graduated. I got a job, bought my own food and stayed out of the house as much as possible. I made friends with a guy at the tattoo parlour not far from the library I worked in and he gave me these.” I held my arms out to her, displaying the inkings that were etched onto the back of my hands, on my wrists and up my forearms. There were several, all my brother’s names, my parents and other small things. After I had made the difficult choice to live, I had littered my skin with reminders of my decision. “Drove them mad. So did everything else I did actually. They tried not to show it but they weren’t very good at hiding it. They couldn’t understand why I hated them so much.”

“I do,” Eir assured me.

I sighed and looked around the splendour of the room again, keen to change the subject. “How can this even be real?” I marvelled.

“There are much stranger things in the universe than this miss,” Eir paused before correcting herself, “Alexa.”

I smiled her, a real smile. “Yes, I suppose there would be. I hope they let me stay. I want to see everything,” I murmured, more to myself than to my new friend.

Eir stood with a comically determined look on her face. “You will!” she proclaimed, “The All-father is kind and just. When he wakes, he will most certainly let you remain here on Asgard.” A thought came to mind and curiosity furrowed my brow. “What were Thor and Loki doing on Earth anyway?” I asked Eir.

She shook her head and shrugged, “I do not know.”

“I suppose I’ll have to ask them then, won’t I?” I decided.

“I suppose you will. But first, I think it might be appropriate to find you some new clothing before you meet with the Princes.”

I looked down at my attire. Blue hoodie, black jeans and converse. Maybe not the most Asgardian clothes. I looked at Eir and shrugged. “Lead the way.”

 

I fell over three times on the way to the seamstress’s rooms, too much in awe of my surroundings to pay any attention to where I put my feet. We arrived in one piece, my legs the bearers of a few fresh bruises. I stood shyly behind Eir as she spoke to a wizened, shrewd looking woman who seemed to be in charge. Several women working on garments around the large room looked me over curiously, my unusual hair drawing their attention. I stared back just as curiously, cheeks flushing red when one of the women smiled gently at me. I startled as I was assailed by pokes, prods and tugs from deft fingers as the old woman inspected me from all angles. “Yes, we’ll have something to fit you girl,” she declared, her stern gaze flicking up to mine. I tried to remember my manners and thanked her as she gestured for me to follow her into another room. Eir looked like she was going to stay where she was, but I grabbed her hand and pulled her after me with a mildly panicked look. The new room was filled with clothing. I could have spent a good hour going through the unfamiliar fashions. The colour varied from rich and bold, to soft, quite tones. The seamstress turned on me. “Anything in particular for you, girl?” she asked sharply. I tried not to be too taken aback by her mannerisms as I considered. “Blue please, if you have it. And pants of some sort too, if you have them,” I said, trying not to come across as demanding or fussy.

“If we have them. What do you think this is, some back alley tailor who doesn’t know his canvas from his silk?” The old seamstress tutted at me. I blushed at the reprimand and stood quietly next to Eir as the old woman whisked off into the rows of clothing. The servant girl nudged me with an elbow. “Don’t mind Bersa, she’s really very kind, “Eir whispered to me.

I suppressed a grin when I heard the woman’s name. “Bersa, the she-bear?” I giggled.

Eir nodded enthusiastically and gave an answering laugh just as Bersa reappeared in front of us. “What are you to hens cackling about?” she jibed, before unloading an armful of clothes into both mine and Eir’s arms. As we struggled not to drop anything I marvelled at how one woman had managed to carry that much. Strong hands took me by the shoulders and spun me round, sending me towards a curtained corner with a firm push. “Now go try those on to make sure they fit well, though I daresay they will,” Bersa commanded, “And you do your job and help her dress”. Eir followed me obediently.  Hands full, it was the best we could do to simply walk right at the curtain and let it slide over us as we entered the changing corner. Dumping my armful of clothing on the bench provided bench carefully, if somewhat ungracefully, I turned to help Eir. We added her armful to the heap and I stared at it with a raised eyebrow. I glanced over at Eir, who gave me a giddy grin. “I guess we better get started!”

 

I was halfway into the first dress when the curtain was ripped aside. I yelped and tried to cover myself as Bersa thrust several pairs of shoes as Eir. I tried my best not to look disgruntled but obviously failed as the seamstress smirked at me. “Nothing I haven’t seen before girl,” she chuckled, pulling close the curtain and vanishing from sight. Eir let out an almighty snort of laughter. “You should have seen you face!” She gasped.

I tried to maintain a dignified expression but soon succumbed. It quickly became hysterical when the tremors of my laughter caused me to drop the dress around my ankles. I sank to the floor after it but the fit had robbed my legs of their strength to stand and so I sat hunched in a pile of cloth until the laughter subsided. In the resulting quiet, Bersa could be heard muttering about young girls and hens having more brains and sense. Eir helped me to my feet with a broad smile and I finally managed to put the dress on fully. It was a pale sky blue, made of a soft cloth I couldn’t identify. It was beautiful. One shouldered, it fell straight before gathering in at the beaded waist and falling down once more to just past my ankles. As Bersa predicted, it fit perfectly. I beamed at Eir over my shoulder as I regarded the garment in the polished glass mirror. She grinned back happily. I shucked the dress and laid it to one side and with Eir’s help began to sift through everything else.

 

A good quarter of an hour later I was finally back in my own clothes, Eir and I both struggling to contain the armfuls of my new attire. When I protested that I would gladly work to repay what I had been given, due to my lack of Asgardian currency, Bersa tutted and waved me out saying it was payment enough if we would relieve her presence of our youthful energy and incessant chattering. I thanked her once again for help, before disappearing as asked. Somehow, we managed to make it back to my rooms without dropping anything. We spread them out on the large bed and I stood, admiring them with Eir. I looked at the several variations of styles. “Which things do you wear when?” I wondered aloud. Eir began to explain to me the niceties of Asgardian dress when there came a knock on the solid wooden door. We looked at each other curiously. “You open it,” Eir and I suggested simultaneously. I giggled nervously and stepped towards the door, pulling it open. A helmed guard stood before me. He gave a respectful bow of his head, “Princes Thor and Loki request your presence for the nightmeal, my lady.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Two! Muchos thankies for reading. Check out my Tumblr at hiddles-is-mine.tumblr.com :)

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoyed. Feedback is always appreciated! :3


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